Happy Birthday Mr President
by McWriter83
Summary: (2x08) President's birthday gala arrives but his limousine doesn't. There is only one person Fitz wants to spend his birthday with. So what happens when his ride is hi-jacked?


**CHAPTER 1: "Until There Was Nothing Left"**

**Kiss With A Fist - Florence and The Machine**

_**You hit me once  
I hit you back  
You gave a kick  
I gave a slap  
You smashed a plate  
Over my head  
Then I set fire to our bed**_

After pulling up his collar, Fitz reached for his tie but paused. The red and white dotted tie reminded him of her, then again everything did at this point. However, this memory was of her tearing a tie away from one of the campaign workers. She had then moved to stand before him to tie it around his collar. The troubled Fitz could almost smell the sweet and delicious scent of her cocoa butter scent. Her breath was of mint and chocolate from the caramel latte; her favourite hot drink.

Once realising where his thoughts were leading, he growled and exasperatedly ran his fingers through his hair. Then making yet another attempt to block her from his mind, he yanked at the tie and faced his reality.

Sometimes people don't get what they want.

Maybe there was a reason that he was the President; maybe this was where he was supposed to be; maybe love was something he couldn't afford.

Life couldn't be that cruel…could it?

As he pulled at the end, he glanced up at the mirror, only to catch the reflection behind his.

"You look nice"

Drawing in a deep breath, Fitz took slow and tentative steps to face his wife by law. "You too" he murmured courteously, giving her flashy red gown a once over. "We should get going" Fitz announced, once he felt ready. "Tom will be-" he paused and frowned at the look on Melle's face. "What? What is it?" he narrowed his gaze.

"I…"

Panic flooded and he rushed by her side. One hand falling to her stomach as he demanded, "Is it the baby?"

"No, no, the baby's fine" she waved him off.

He took a step back and pulled his gaze up to her. "Then what?" Fitz questioned with a hint of annoyance.

"Maybe we shouldn't go" Mellie suggested, her grimace now unveiled.

Fitz was completely oblivious to her anxiety as his rage overrode him. "What?" he growled, not believing what was happening at that moment. How could she ask him to cancel when this whole thing had been her idea? "Maybe we should just skip this whole thing and stay in. We can tell the press that I wasn't feeling too well and you wanted to-"

"This gala was your idea" he interjected sharply.

Mellie now seemed frazzled when running trembling fingers through her hair. "I know - but I don't know – let's just not go" she stammered.

Fitz stopped and widely stared at her.

After his shock wore off, he took a step towards him. "Are you going to be the one to tell the Prime Minister of Azerbaijan to get back on his plane and take an 18 hour flight back home? Or her majesty the queen, that you don't want to go because you're afraid of my mistress?" he eyed her briefly and caught how she dropped her stare. "That's what this is, isn't it?" he guessed and sighed, inching the bridge of his nose. "Well get over yourself Mellie, she isn't my mistress anymore" he huffed angrily while inwardly cringing at the degrading term.

She wasn't anything of his…

Then pushing past her and exiting the bathroom, he grabbed the phone from the wardrobe and pocketed it. "I'll tell them you came down with something" he muttered hurriedly and raced through the room and towards the door.

Only, as he reached for the doorknob, he was yanked back to a faltering step. "Please…" Mellie rasped and Fitz turned to her. Regardless of his frustration, he couldn't deny the terror sparked in her startled eyes. Her lips parted like she was about to say something but then paused.

For a second, he considered listening to her but then remembered his place. If God or fate or destiny or the stars were aligned for him to be President and not have love, then he would put the country first. Bending down, he brushed her lips on her forehead and whispered, "Goodnight"

Without another word, he left and slammed the door behind him. At the same time, the loud sound of something breaking broke through the silence.

This was just how it was.

She hurt him and he hurt her. She took something and he took; they would continue like that until there was nothing left.

**A/N: This was actually inspired by Beyonce's Partition. If you know the song, then you know this is a clue as to what is to come up. **

**Want more, leave some love. **


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